"Victory favors the fool...or the bold...something like that..." Draco murmured back with a wide grin as he made his way up those dark, creaking stairs.
Draco heads up the stairs. The room to his left, where he met with Razelago hours earlier, has no sign of light coming from within. The sloshing noises come from behind a door to the right.[/spoiler]
In the living room Cimri slurs, "Izza ghost, I reckon. Ain't never seen her."
The sloshing sounds emanate from the room to his side, his eyes focusing in on the door. The slurs of Cimri downstairs were ignored as his hand slowly and carefully checked the door, seeing it if was unlocked. If it was, he would cautiously open it as quietly as he could. If it was locked, he would leave well enough alone. There was a difference between looking at a hornet's nest and smashing it with a stick.
Draco pushes the door open slowly, but the squeaking of the hinges can be heard through the entire dilapidated building. Ivy invades even this musty room. Old ash streaks the tiled walls of what was once a lavish bath chamber, while broken mosaic chips and fallen timbers cover the floor with sharp scree. Opposite the door, a porcelain tub filled with stagnant water hunches beneath a crescent-shaped mirror distorted by intense heat. The liquid in the tub ripples, but the bathroom is unoccupied.
The noise stifles and then goes silent as the door opens with a whiny creak. He stares into the room cautiously, carefully, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light filtering in from downstairs and from the ruined walls and windows. Across the way lays the tub, the water still rippling some but filled with some kind of mud. He approaches carefully, not drawing too close to be in arm's reach of anything that could be within the tub though.
After a few moments, he backs out of the door and closes it behind him. The stairs creak as he makes his way down to the living room where the others waited. Grabbing the bottle from Cimri, he would settle back onto the ruined couch once more.
"Someone took a big shit in the tub, I think." With that, his face breaks into a wide grin before he starts laughing. Inebriation makes one's humor a gift from the gods.
Flaccus scans the area, fingers fiddling while he murmurs.
Flaccus doesn't see anything unusual on the surface of the rubble-strewn house or indeed in the 'haunted' bath, but it's obvious any further investigation would require getting one's hands dirty.
"Hey, get up. Boss has something for us. I got runners out to fetch the rest," Cimri tells Draco as she shakes him awake. She whistles shrilly and goes to shake Vokrin, hesitating about touching the tiefling for a moment then shrugs and grabs his shoulder. "Wakey, wakey." She offers everyone a sip from a half jug of whiskey to deal with any hangovers.
After the others have arrived she takes a deep breath and walks upstairs to Razelago's office. Once again, a silhouette waits behind a white screen with a flickering lamp back-lighting your patron. A small black-lacquered box sits on a table in the room.
"With the number of veterans who live in town, it's not surprising that there's a church of Iomedae in Longacre. But there might not be one much longer if Tileavia Allamar, its priestess, does what she has in mind."
Razelado's silhouette clasps shadowy hands. "There's growing unrest in the empire, and not just in Pezzack and along the Hellcoast. Many of Iomedae's faithful have begun speaking more boldly of the monarchy's vices and the rights of citizens. They seem to believe this is Andoran and that the people have only to reach out to seize power. But they are wrong. This is Cheliax, not Andoran, and we know where true power lies.
"Fifth Sword Knight Allamar is gathering all who will listen for a sermon in front of her church this afternoon - only two short hours from now. I don't know what she has in mind, but I suspect some revolutionary claptrap that can only sow the seeds of confusion and frustration among Longacre's citizens. That is contrary to my wishes. So I'd like you to attend the rally. In the box are sashes marked with the insignia of Archbaron Fex. Wear them, remind people that the lord of this town is not without supporters, and see what transpires. Afterward, Cimri will report back to me. In return, you will all receive double what you did last night."
A rally about overthrowing the Chelaxian government? Hardly appropriate. Perhaps this Tileavia would need to meet with an accident. Casius preferred to avoid killing, but what needed to be done would be done. Casius simply said, "I will do so," then took a sash from the box.
Draco awoke on the couch with a start when Cimri grabbed him and shook him awake, one of his blades slipping out from under his jacket until he realized who was bringing him to the world of consciousness. His head pulsed angrily but he shook off the hangover with a shrug and a sip of whiskey to quell the angry pain.
Making his way upstairs where their patron was, Draco listened quietly to the voice behind the screen. While his head did ache, it didn't dull his senses; this job was bigger than just robbing some tannery. This was disrupting a rally in open daylight, getting into a fight with the followers of Iomedae, it was going to be significantly messier.
When their patron's speech was done, he looked down at the box with the sashes there. He didn't take one yet, instead taking a moment to clear his throat and speak.
"So we are tasked with just wearing these little sashes, stand in the crowd, and just...watch what happens? For that, you'll pay us double?" He sounded incredulous at the offer. There had to be a catch. "Are we going to be in harm's way...or dealing out harm? If so, is killing off the table again?"
"Stand and be seen. Watch and listen," the shrill, nasally voice of Razelago responds. "I do not anticipate violence, but we also do not know what the Iomedaen will say and do. If you find yourselves threatened, I expect you to deal with those threats as you feel necessary."
Vokrin lets the others speak their mind first, it is often best to go unnoticed. He acquires a sash, noting that it absolutely clashed with anything he could possibly wear, and would positively ruin any potential chance of being fashionable at the event.
Of course there will be problems. Whether violent or not matters little, the solution is of course overwhelming force.
"It would most likely be preferable to avoid killing anyone outright, even in self defense. Dead citizens don't pay taxes, after all" the gnome said with a mischievous smile.
"Indeed!" remarks your mysterious patron. "Any other questions?"
"Ah, that kind of work then." Draco mutters before taking one of the sashes and looking it over for a moment. With a shrug, he'd slip it onto his form. "Fair enough for me. Just make sure the payment is here waiting for us."
Longacre's Church of Iomedae, surrounded by a wrought-iron fence, sits on the north end of the Church Square. In the square is a public well and a tall wooden pole that is used for public notices and postings.
The fifteen foot tall wooden post, scarred by nails and plastered with faded pronouncements, rises from a bed of posies in the church square. A verdigris-stained copper archer swivels atop a squeaky weather vane at the post's summit.
Shops and businesses surround the plaza, and a wide thoroughfare runs north and south through the square. A conspicuous white-clothed table stands in front of the church, apparently in readiness for the sermon, although the table is currently bare.
At the time the group arrives, there are handfuls of elderly locals and younger laborers gathered in the square, exchanging pleasantries and swapping rumors.
Standing at the edge of the Church Square, Penance surveyed the scene in front of him. His eyes searched high and low, from person to person and building to building. Finally, he saw what he was looking for.
A nice, quiet, dark place to disappear in. He adjusted the red sash and let it hang across his clothes as he leaned up against the wall and simply listened.
Draco walked into the avenue confidently, the sash blowing in the occasionally wind sweeping through the town. Scrutinizing the area carefully, he would try to pick up what information he could from around himself.
"Interesting, interesting..." He murmurs to himself, looking around. There was the alleyway that Penance had already begun to set himself up in but there was another place of interest; an abandoned storefront. He would casually point it out to the others.
"Nice place to set up at. A distance away from the sermon proper but lots of cover, dark, a perfect place for a sniper to setup in. Not my exact cup of tea though." He says, grinning and padding his clothing. The kukris were hidden upon his form, out of sight but not impossible to retrieve either. "There is a cart nearby though, see it? Its got some nasty wood tar in it, real flammable. Could be a good distraction."
Providing whatever intelligence he could, Draco would then walk out and merrily chat with the townspeople. It didn't dawn on him to remove the sash until it was too late and he could see the look of distrust upon the eldery pair's face.
Unable to get anything really from them and finally picking up on the fact that the people really didn't want him there, he would make his way towards the abandoned storefront just to give it a look-over for anything unusual.
Servius looks over everything with acute intent. He says nothing.
Vokrin works the crowd, being sure to make his presence known all the while wearing his sash. He grins his too-wide grin and shows off his teeth. There is no remote possibility of mistaking these gestures as friendly, however. He is most definitely letting everyone know exactly who is in charge around here, and who is enforcing the "peace".
That said he doesn't overtly threaten anyone, that sort of heavy-handed gesture wasn't his way and was extremely silly to boot. Any dimwit could threaten someone, the things people inferred from a casual greeting and a look of menace were far better deterrents, Vokrin had found.
In the alleyway, Draco stood alongside the impressive and somewhat creepy halfling. Looking over the small crowd, his face slowly grew into one of consternation.
"I think we're being used. Something is going to happen." The mercenary said softly before taking a sip of his waterskin. "I've seen actions like this; hire an expendable force, feed them misinformation, send them into the enemy. Then with the team that actually matters, accomplish the objective. Casualties for the latter are minimal and casualties for the former don't f%&%ing matter." He snorts for a moment, coughing up phlegm and spitting it out to the side. "Here is hoping that the pay is worth the risk, right?"
Casius notes the alleyway and the abandoned building as they approach, and nods in agreement with Draco. ”Servius, I noticed last night you were very good at avoiding notice. Would you mind waiting by the cart? If this does turn violent, light the tar on fire. We can use the distraction to slip away down the alley. Draco, could you keep an eye on the abandoned storefront? If you see any signs of an assassin, alert us and Servius so we can get in position.”
Casius then proceeded to mingle with the crowd, pleasantly chatting with people, non verbally reminding them that while he may be wearing the local lord’s sash, he’s still a normal person.
"Fex don't like the yokels gatherin' like this, Bo," one older man tells an older woman who both stand with excellent posture in front of Vokrin.
The woman turns to look directly at the sash-wearing tiefling. "Yup, Dent. Reckon Allamar got somethin' serious to say." She narrows her eyes and the pair get lost in the growing crowd.
Near the alley, Penance overhears a couple young workers as they pass by: "Yeah, it was bad. They called us in to fix a hole in the fence. How they got in. Killed them dogs of his. Can you believe it? That's probably why the Lady's givin' this speech. She's going to be brimstone and vengeance for sure after that."
An older man conversing with Casius tells him with fresh whiskey on his breath, "I'm tellin' ya hoss, her boy told me hisself. He don' lie, hoss, she got a visit from an angel! Might wanna rethink that sash, son. Angels got a tendency to smite folks."
The crowd starts to truly grow over the course of the next hour. Eventually a few of Longacre's newer deputies arrive to keep an eye on the crowd.
Cimri walks the crowd and works a few contacts. She takes a close walk by the church fence and eventually circles around trying to get as many of her compatriots near as she can. "So far I haven't learned anything useful. Just magpies and gossips willing to..." She trails off for a moment then utters some minor vulgarity. "Be cool," she whispers.
From behind her a weathered older human woman emerges from the crowd. Her face is tanned with deep crow's feet and she chews on an unlit cigar. Pinned to her long leather duster is a tin star. She doffs her white Stetson hat and gives a half-smile. "Say, hey, Cimri! How's my favorite niece doing?"
Cimri rolls her eyes and spins around. "Oh, just dandy, Aunt Rhona."
Sheriff Rhona Staelish glances over Cimri's shoulder and pulls back her coat to grab a match out of a pouch on her belt to light her cigar. A pair of gleaming handaxes with ivory grips sits on her hips. "Got to be careful on these streets. Don't want to get a reputation for hanging with trouble." She puffs the end until a firm orange cherry glows at the tip. "Want to introduce me to your new friends, kiddo?"
"Not particularly."
[dice=Perception]1d20+5
[dice=Knowledge (local)]1d20+5
[dice=Diplomacy, rumormongering]1d20+7
Casius notes the alleyway and the abandoned building as they approach, and nods in agreement with Draco. ”Servius, I noticed last night you were very good at avoiding notice. Would you mind waiting by the cart? If this does turn violent, light the tar on fire. We can use the distraction to slip away down the alley. Draco, could you keep an eye on the abandoned storefront? If you see any signs of an assassin, alert us and Servius so we can get in position.”
The Professor pauses but nods. "Any specific signals?"
"If anyone suspiciously dies should be signal enough, but if I scratch my left ear, do it."
"An angel, you say? I wasn't aware that angels took such an interest in the goings-on of mortals like us. Well, one would hope that an angel would give me the choice of removing the sash or not before smiting me."
Oh, joy. Local law enforcement. And apparently Cimri's aunt? How interesting. Filing that bit of information away in his mind, he smiled slightly at the subtle threat of the Sheriff's handaxes, and waited to see what the Sheriff would do.
With an order to watch the abandoned shop, Draco gave a nod. He was about to take off when Cimri finally approached through the growing crowd of individuals. Like him, she seemed to have not found anything too useful for their wicked band. He gave a small shrug, gesturing to the crowd.
"Probably not important enough to know shit, I figure. We best just keep an eye out..." No sooner did he say that when he saw the disposition change in Cimri. His fingers twitched as his attention turned towards the older woman the the cigar in her mouth, the tin star on her jacket, and the half-smile on her face.
It only took a moment for him to piece together why the woman was here; doing her own little investigations. Their crime was probably known now and a large gathering like this could attract any number of suspicious individuals. The sash only made it that much more obvious.
"You ain't got to worry about us, ma'am. We're just a group of concerned individuals, waiting for the sermon to be told and showing our support." The words were honeyed and the smile wide as he slipped an arm around Cimri like they had known each other for years now. "Are you expecting trouble or something? I'm sure an experienced lawman like yourself can handle anything that pops up, right?"
"Well, now, this might be a sleepy little town, ain't no Westcrown, that's for sure, but I've found that trouble tends to happen when you're least prepared. I find it best to just be ready for trouble regardless," the wan says with a wink. "So then, you're here for the sermon, Cimri? Didn't think you went in much for religion."
"Not lik-" Cimri catches herself and decides to go along with Draco's play. "I mean, not like whatever is said here won't mean something. May as well know what's going on in the world, right?"
"Speaking of knowing what's going on, you hear the tannery had a break-in last night? Heard anything about that I ought to know?" Staelish looks her niece in the eye as she asks her most pointed question.
"No, ma'am. Awful shame, hope no one got hurt," Cimri responds in a casual tone.
The Sheriff puffs her cigar and sucks her teeth. "Just the man's dogs. You know me, hate seeing innocent animals suffer as much as I hate to see innocent people suffer. You, uh, should come for dinner sometime soon. Bring your new beau with you," she says staring hard at Draco. She tips her hat and mutters something about getting her people ready as she moves off and throws her deputies a few quick hand signals.
Draco's grin only seems to widen when he receives that hard stare from the Sheriff, giving her a nod and a look of surprise.
"Dinner eh? Make sure it is some chicken with good gravy. I love my good gravy!" He shouts after the sheriff as she begins to depart. There was the something about her that caught his eye and as she made a few movements with her hands, his eyes instinctively locked onto it. His smile didn't falter but he did lean in to whisper to Cimri.
"You f$~~ed it. She has her men watching us." Draco pulled her a bit from the crowd, not getting close to anyone that was part of the job. When he next spoke, his voice was loud enough for some of his associates to hear him.
"Well, ain't she a lot of fun beautiful. We'll stay up and over here, out of everyone's way. She's got a load of family that'll be there for dinner right, so we best be on our best behavior." Draco said, hoping that the others would pick up the message that he was putting down.
Casius smiles. So, the sheriff is having her men watch Cimri and Draco. That distraction will be even more necessary if we need to escape.
Since he wasn't being watched, he slipped back into the crowd to make sure he was in position so the Professor could see him if he gave the signal, and looked over the crowd, trying to identify the locations of the deputies.
A hush falls over the assembled crowd. Tileavia Alamar, Fifth Sword Knight of Iomedae, walks out onto one of the church balconies dressed in formal robes of pure white with yellow trim. She stands straight and raises her arms high. In a firm, resonant voice, the firebrand priestess speaks to Longacre.
"Friends and neighbors, I have wondrous tidings to share! We have all known hardships in our lives—needless sorrows, injustice, even cruelty. Indeed, such is the struggle of all who live. But many among us have known more than our share. Many among us have shouldered burdens laid upon them not by the Inheritor, but by those who would curse her name and taunt her faithful.
“But today, I bear a missive from champions of Iomedae’s faith, heralds of the goddess’s will, who know your troubles and would see them end.”
She lowers her arms and her twin sons, Loran and Lacall, emerge from the lower door bearing a wood box swaddled with white linens and set it upon the table at the fence.
"I received this letter last night: she holds up a rolled parchment and reads it aloud,
"‘People of Longacre! The time of your redemption is at hand. When the song of the Inheritor rises, you all must choose: live as complacent vassals of corruption and evil, or embrace honor and claim the glory that is your right. The Glorious Reclamation gives you a choice.’
“Signed, ‘Lencia Visserene, Knight-Inheritor of the Glorious Reclamation.’" Allamar furls the parchment.
“Friends, it is up to us to restore the worship of Iomedae to its proper place in Cheliax and reclaim our nation in the name of the Inheritor. But we have been given a sign—a sign that the ‘Angel Knight’ has come to Longacre to lead us to glory!"
The twins lift the box to reveal an elaborate and ornate silver helmet shaped in a cherubic image with a halo of curls. Allamar herself spins about in the stunned silence of the crowd and walks back into the church.
What is this 'Glorious Reclamation'? Whatever it is, it appears that they seek to incite rebellion and violence. Well, let's see if we can figure out what's so special about that helmet.
Casius studies the helmet carefully, trying to see what makes it a sign that the 'Angel Knight' has come to Longacre.
"Well, well, well...ain't that interesting..." Draco murmurs to both himself and to Cimri once the priestess made her declaration and presented the holy helmet. He was still under the watch of the deputies though, an irritation for sure. It left him hanging in the back, watching the others get to whatever work they were needing to do.
oooooooooooo." Draco shouted with both hands clasping his mouth as he did. "She means for you all to join a war and to go and die first! How pathetic!" Someone had to say something in these moment and what could be better than dissent as an answer.
As Draco heckles and tries to get others to join in his jeers, Casius moves to the fence around the church to get a closer look. Once he pushes through the crowd of gawkers he finds that the helmet is, in fact, a helmet. It looks to be part of a high quality set of plate mail armor. The cherubic face and intricate curls of hair show remarkable craftsmanship and skill.
Several faces turn to look at Draco as he boos and essentially calls a respected holy woman of Iomedae a coward. A few people sneer, and more simply get away from him, unwilling to be seen next to him.
"Oh this simply won't do" Penance muttered to himself.
Penance approaches the nearest citizen and strikes up a conversation.
"Why hello there. It's been ages, hasn't it? So good to see you. Can you believe all of this excitement? Extraordinary isn't it? I mean, an angel knight, here, of all places? It's almost unbelievable I tell you."
"I mean honestly, I'm no fan of our grand lord myself, but he seems to be quite the powerful man. Are we willing to risk our lives for this...angel knight, that seems to have lost their helmet? Is this really all it takes to spur us into some kind of violent upheaval? To face the stocks...or worse, god forbid? I mean, wouldn't it be more prudent to, you know, form some kind of organized resistance rather than just start rioting? I mean what if the Lord is behind all of this? What if it's just some ploy to distract us from what's really going on around us? What if it's a trap, to lure us into doing something illegal? I don't know about you but I don't want to end up in a cell over all of this? Do you?"
Penance then runs from the alley into the crowd and begins shouting. "SOMEONE HELP! THOSE PEOPLE NEED HELP!' and begins pointing to the alley.
"Please, we must warn everyone and get help!"
The Professor just watches it all.
Vokrin similarly does not engage. He's here to ensure the safety of his allies and the acquiescence of the crowd. He's not here to firmly staunch the opposition, merely keep them in their place.
More than a few of the crowd's younger members seem to respond to Penance's speech: "Yeah, I've got a family to worry about!" "Me too!" "I have to take care of my parents!" come a few anonymous shouts.
Several of them respond to the illusion magic and one of them falls under the gnome's enchanting spell. "Yes, of course partner! I saw a deputy over there!" he says enthusiastically before running back to the square shouting for help and waving his arms.
Draco kept an eye out as Penance took control of the crowd, relieved for the help. He looked at that angel helmet there, out there in the open, almost asking to be snagged by someone. If it wasn't for the deputies keeping an eye on him, he would make a move for it. "Oh hell, everything's going right out! That's a big mess in the alleway!" He shouted as the sounds of fighting and cries of help came from alleyway. He hoped that his comrades would pick up what he was trying to put out there for them.
With the shouting coming overhead though and the cries of the crowd, whatever message Draco was trying to get through gets all mixed up.
Casius caught Draco's eye as he looked at the angel helmet, then turned so the Professor could see the left side of his head, reached up, and scratched his left ear.
The Professor tries to back into the crowd, listening for scuttlebutt about what's going on.
The deputies turn away from their surveillance to see what the fuss is about. They begin to move away, pushing through the crowd to get to the darkened alleyway. Rona hangs back at the southern end of the square, watching the crowd breaking up and puffing on her cigar.
Draco will turn to his lady accomplice beside him, murmuring in her ear for just a moment. To the casual glance, it could look like two sweethearts exchanging words.
"Our job here is done. We saw what happened and we wore the ribbons. Time to get paid." With his arm slung around Cimri, he would turn around and begin making his way back. With the two very stoic twins nearby watching the helmet, the wagon not going off explosively, and the sheriff still having their eyes upon him, Draco was smart enough to know he was compromised. He had done what he could for now.
The growing chaos would have made for the perfect distraction to steal the helmet, if not for the two paladins standing guard. It was clear that they wouldn't be taking it - whatever it was. Turning, Casius moves away from the fence and begins moving away from the event, to meet up with the others later before they report back.
Their task completed, the group exits the square alone or in groups to rendezvous back at the ramshackle hideout. In the daylight the weathered and charred building looks to be held together exclusively by a network of vines. The refuse in the yard, and surrounding what remains of the porch, attests to frequent use by the less desirable elements of Longacre.
Cimri climbs through the open window and heads up the stairs to Razelago's office. The shadowed figure sits behind the screen, the window behind him completely covered and keeping the room lit only by candles. His faithful "guard dog" sleeps comfortably in the corner, one ear perked up as Cimri and the others enter.
Razelago's high-pitched, nasally voice calls out, "Good, you have returned. That must mean things did not get out of hand. Report."
Draco follows Cimri through the open window and up the staircase towards where their employer was waiting. Taking off the badge of support that had been requested, the mercenary moved into a nearby seat as the others got settled into the office. Their shadowed and mysterious benefactor remained so throughout the meeting, his trained pet watching them enter with a barely concerned look.
"It seems that Iomadae's faithful are getting uppity, something about a Glorious Reclamation and an 'Angel Knight'. They had some kind of helmet on display to signify this knight but it just looked like a nice helmet to me." Draco says with a bored disinterest. It was an easy paying job after all.
"And what about the citizens? How did they respond?" ask Razelago after a moment to digest Draco's terse explanation. "What about the law?"
"Like the sheep that they are, some found the idea enticing, but most are lambs and will not take any action that might cause them to become lambchops. We needn't worry." Vokrin speaks of the commoners with disdain, but of course that was only appropriate.
Casius says, "More specifically, the priestess said she received a message from a Lencia Visserene, who claims the title 'Knight-Inheritor of the Glorious Reclamation.` The message said the time of redemption was at hand, and that when 'the song of the Inheritor' rises, all must choose to either 'live as complacent vassals of corruption and evil, or embrace honor and claim the glory that is your right.' The words themselves seemed meant to stir rebellion and turn the citizens against the government. With a little encouragement, however, they were more concerned about possible repercussions if something happened to them in retribution for taking action against the government. The helmet displayed looks to be part of a very high quality set of plate mail armor, and is designed in a cherubic face with intricate curls of hair. It shows remarkable craftsmanship and skill. I did not see how the Watch reacted."
"The sheriff recognizes Cimri." Draco says, speaking up after Casius and Vokrin both speak. "She is her aunt. Seems to have a pretty good idea that her darling niece is up to no good."
The Professor nods along as the others speak, fingers twiddling.